


Hot Chocolate and Black Ice

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cold Weather, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10069277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: To be completely honest he’s not really sure what’s happened at first. He’s standing one moment, laying on the ground the next, with no in-between. But his tail bone is sore and the ground is cold so he decides that instead of surprised he should be pissed at whoever didn’t salt their sidewalk this morning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick fic because the weather has been absolutely bizarre. Any mistakes are my own, I just really wanted to write a fluffy first meeting for the boys...inspired by tumblr.

February has been a disgusting insane month, flip flopping so quickly between hot days where he can wander around in a t-shirt and all the snow melts and flowers start to poke through the damp earth, to days so viciously cold that five minutes outside of his house he’s pretty sure he’s got frostbite even under his thick winter jacket. Mother Nature should not be allowed to pull this bullshit and if ever there was an indicator of global warming he’d say a bright sunny day that quickly turns into a frozen _hell_ is a pretty good one.

He forgot his gloves when he left for work one day and had to stand with his hands under the lukewarm water of the bathroom sink for twenty minutes until he could move them properly again. And it’s not like he _hates_ winter; he loves snow, and building snow men, and hot chocolate.

This is not winter. This is an abomination. A _wasteland_. Hell has _frozen over_.

And oh yeah, did he mention how much he hates the ice?

He’s not driving today because of all the black ice on the road; the news had been full of accidents and he wasn’t interested in trashing his baby just because the season was actually trying to kill them all. So he’s walking to work, bundled up in every layer he can find but still the piercing wind manages to make it through and chill him to the bone.

Luckily it’s not too far of a walk and he mostly sticks to residential areas where people have salted in preparation for the ice.

Or at least that’s what he’d been thinking before he’d landed on the ground.

To be completely honest he’s not really sure what’s happened at first. He’s standing one moment, laying on the ground the next, with no in-between. But his tail bone is sore and the ground is cold so he decides that instead of surprised he should be _pissed_ at whoever didn’t salt their sidewalk this morning.

“Are you alright?” A door opens nearby and a moment later Stiles is staring up at the most gorgeous guy he’s ever seen. Seriously, he’s got the chiseled jaw and eyes that seem to change colour from grey to blue to green whenever he thinks he’s got it figured out. He’s dark and probably broody with a mouth _made_ for kissing. He’s also frowning down at Stiles. “Shit, you probably have a concussion.”

“I don’t think I hit my head.” Stiles replies automatically. Hot Stranger arches one dark eyebrow at him. “I mean, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Hot Stranger prompts. He’s kneeling next to him in loose sweatpants and a thin blue t-shirt. Goosebumps pebble his strong, lightly furred arms.

“My butt is sore.” Stiles supplies. Hot stranger flushes.

“Let’s get you inside,” he stands and carefully pulls Stiles to his feet. The ground is slick underneath them and Stiles slides a little. Strong hands grip him by the waist and hold him up. “I think you may be more concussed than you think.”

“Most people salt their sidewalks.” He’s drifting back into pissed off territory but Hot Stranger gives him a contrite look and his grip tightens around Stiles.

“I just got home from out of town, my neighbor was supposed to be keeping it up for me.”

It’s then that Stiles notices something incredibly disturbing.

“You’re not wearing shoes!”

Hot Stranger pauses and looks down at his bare toes as well. He shrugs but it comes off as more of a shiver. “I saw you fall, I wasn’t really thinking about footwear.”

Stiles swears and hurries Hot Stranger up the front steps into his own house to the other man’s bemusement.

“Your toes are going to fall off,” he tells him glancing from room to room until he finds one with a couch that he can settle him on. “No one ever thinks they’ll get frost bite in the city but I’m telling you it can happen.”

Hot Stranger goes easily, lets Stiles toss a blanket over him and sit next to him pulling his feet up into his lap. He’s got cute toes, he notes, before he starts rubbing them feeling how cold they are from their short stint out front.

“I don’t think I have frostbite.” Hot Stranger says but doesn’t make a move to stop Stiles. In fact he seems to sink further into the couch, pleased. “And I still don’t know your name.”

“You’re delusional with the cold.” Stiles tells him firmly. He hasn’t taken off his coat and he’s starting to sweat. The house is nice and warm around them thawing him from the vicious chill. “And it’s Stiles.”

“What’s Stiles?”

“Me. It’s my name.” He pauses, glances down at the feet in his lap. The realization of what he’s been doing slowly sinks in—maybe he did hit his head. He flushes, embarrassed (and overheated). “Um sorry about that?”

“It’s fine.” Hot Stranger smirks “It’s not often a cute guy takes over my house to give me a foot massage.”

“It’s happened before?” Stiles arches an eyebrow, pleased. “I should have tried for something a little different,”

“Derek.” Hot Stranger supplies when he trails off. “Listen you’ve got to be dying in your jacket. How about you take it off and I make us coffee, it’s the least I can do.”

“For the foot massage?”

“For the ice.” He grins. It’s breathtaking. “I’ll think of something else for the foot massage.”

Stiles thinks of Scott opening the store up by himself. Considering the amount of times he’s covered for him and Allison, Stiles figures he owes him one.

“Have any hot chocolate?”

“I think I can scrounge some up.” Derek seems reluctant to get off the couch.

Stiles may be in love already.


End file.
